


Possessive

by WeirdWorldOrder



Series: Ciphers [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Demonic Possession, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Older Pines Twins, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Reverse Bill Cipher, Reverse Pines, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdWorldOrder/pseuds/WeirdWorldOrder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Cipher?”  His voice shows a degree of surprise if not outright apprehension.<br/>“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” the dark tone sends a shiver down the mortal’s spine.  His eyes betray his fear.  It is wonderful to watch him fall apart.  “I am a demon after all.”</p><p>They never imagined the consequences of entering a new world.  They cared nothing for eliminating the obstacles in order to integrate into it.  Mortals really should learn not to break the toys of a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessive

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting here. I recently discovered the Gravity Falls fandom and instantly fell in love with the characters. I hope you like it and would not mind some input on characterization or anything else. I apologize for any grammatical errors. Please, at least leave kudos if you like it. Enjoy!

You are a demon. Not a very good one, but a demon all the same. You are weak. Perhaps there is power within you, but you’re too much of a simpering fool to tap into it. Empathy that is your weakness. You think too much about those around you. The very thought of blood makes you cringe. The simple idea of pain could nearly make you pass out. You are rather pathetic, honestly. 

You are prey. It’s quite obvious from within the cage that holds you. It’s disgraceful is what it is, to call you a demon. You are the plaything of two upstart humans that boast themselves psychics. Your power, what little you can tap into, is theirs to wield rather than your own. They siphon it from you, and it is sickening to watch. How can you be so weak? 

You care about life. It is most unbecoming of a demon, and it certainly hasn’t helped you when it comes to being bound to those psychotic twins. Still, you have courage. You do not often utilize it, or realize it’s there. Only after you came here did you start to put your foot down. That is what got you stuck in this wretched prison. It saps your power in the most painful of ways, somehow. They may very well kill you this time. You do not care, so long as you helped another escape their torture.

Their eyes are on you. Two pairs of unnatural blue and one set of a more normal shade. These beings you are trapped with cannot be human. Their power is not their own. It is granted by the mystical gems adorning a part of each twin’s outfit. It is sickening that they match. The old man that appears to be in his thirties is a product of what they stole from you. He is supposed to be over sixty.

They are the predators. It is because of them that you are trapped, because of their sacred journals. It pains you to be at the beck and call of such monsters. It is infuriating. None of you belong here. You know that all too well, but they... Do. Not. Care. They have no care for life as you do. In a way, they make better demons than you ever will. They basically conquered your world, and now wish to make this one burn. You wish to save it, but how can you possibly stand against your master and mistress? You cannot, not alone.

A whimper escapes you much to their delight. The only time they smile is when they are causing pain. It sickens you, doesn’t it? There is power in you, if only you could tap it. You could stop them, if you had the will. Instead you are their plaything, but at least you saved one from such torment.

 

When you were brought into this new world you knew it was doomed. The combined force of your master and mistress was unstoppable. It was hard to watch as they took apart this version of Gravity Falls. At least they were not forcing you to participate further. Your master had always been creative in the ways he tormented his victims, you included. His sister was much more reserved and detached when taking a life and disposing of the body. 

Bile rose up inside you when they began abducting the citizens of the town. Some of them they kept for experiments, and the others they took what little pleasure they were capable of from by killing them slowly. The twins took just as much pleasure in your emotional turmoil. By the time the town really started taking notice the real mastermind had arrived.

“Shut up, Cipher,” Stanley yelled at you.

You sniffled, but fought to do as he said. The twins were obedient little hellions while their great uncle surveyed their continued success. They were almost human in such moments if it wasn’t for the fact that they were just waiting for Stanley to release them onto the world. The man rubbed at the stubble on his chin. The abandoned factory that would serve as their initial base was littered in cryogenic stasis pods. Some of them held people. They had survived the twins’ only to become Stanley’s test subjects. You had long since realized that that was a worse fate.

“Until we can secure our place in this world this will have to do,” Stanley sneered. He turned his stern gaze to the twins. They stiffened to give him all their attention. “You two will have to locate our counterparts. Dispose of them however you please. We don’t need loose ends.”

“It will be done, sir,” the twins spoke in unison. They certainly were a creepy pair. Your mistress turned her unnaturally blue eyes to you. “William.”

That is all you needed to know that you would be accompanying them. You wondered what the twins’ counterparts were like. It was hard to imagine varying degrees of homicidal sociopaths. You had long since given up looking on the bright side of things, lest you break out in tears. Your blue triangular form floated after your master in silence. 

The forest was a scary place at night. In your world there would be plenty of creatures willing to pop out and eat anything that dared enter. Here, most of the inhabitants were either resting or wisely keeping their distance. You weren’t sure which, or if you were just lucky enough not to be in any of the more dangerous beasts’ territory. It was hard to tell if the twins preferred the lack of interruptions, or if they hoped for the chance to kill something else.

You stopped in a clearing within the densely wooded area. The twins looked at you expectantly as though you would know which way to go. It was getting darker while they waited impatiently. It could have been your imagination. What they expected of you was out of the question, but you concentrated anyway. With great effort you were able to see the surrounding area in a way that made you uneasy. You hesitated before stretching your second sight.

It took some time, but eventually you found a small dwelling on the other side of the forest. People were inside that you could just barely make out. They seemed happy to you, a nice family even without anyone around to deceive. It made you feel sick to think about what would soon happen to them and their world. When you opened your eye you were already moving in the direction of the shack. You could feel the twins following in silence.

The old building that you spotted seemed to be a house turned tourist destination of sorts. The sign on top read Mystery Shack, though the “S” had fallen off and was lying in the yard. You could make out laughing from within, honest laughter that you had not been acquainted with in far too long. You pulled back to hide behind a bush. There was an urge to go up there, to meet the people enjoying life, but you also felt like breaking down. That was not a life you could ever experience.

“How do we get them out?” Your master asked his twin. “We could find a way I suppose.”

“No, we’ll make them come to us,” the female twin decided.

You watched as she lifted her hand to the house. The discarded “S” began to glow an ethereal blue just like her hand. It struggled off the ground with her seemingly telepathic influence. She swiped her hand through the air. The object followed the motion into the house. It remained lodged into the upper floor as silence permeated the area. You hid further in the bush while the twins moved in.

There were shouts and screams from the latest victims of your captors. A pained cry from your master made you pay more attention. When you looked out from your hiding place it was indeed your master in pain. An old man stood between the twins and his family. The six fingered glove on his left hand held some form of energy. He must have used it to disrupt your master’s powers. It was not often that one was actually able to fight against the twins.

“Stanley, run,” the man shouted to another that seemed to be his twin. “Take the kids and get out of here!”

This Stanley seemed about ready to protest, but relented when their attackers seemed to be regaining themselves. The boy with a blue and white trucker hat pulled along a long, bushy haired girl. They were the twins’ counterparts, and that meant the man protecting them was Stanford’s. The man that remained was quickly subdued by your mistress. Your master went running after the other three.

You cautiously floated closer, knowing that you would be commanded to eventually anyway. Your mistress paid you little mind, but the six fingered man’s eyes widened when he noticed your approach. You flinched back at the intensity of his glare. It seemed you were wrong about this world’s inhabitants being nicer. He seemed about to say something before your mistress knocked him out.

Stanley was not happy when you returned with the captive. He recognized the man, but you already knew he would. The twins were still in the dark more or less. Until Stanford regained consciousness there was little else to be done for the time being. You were put in charge of monitoring for when that happened. The other three would be discussing what to do with the ones that got away from your master. He had not discussed it on your way back, so it was unclear to you who survived their first encounter with the psychic twins.

Being alone with this version of Stanford gave you time to reminisce about better times. Those times were a lie, but at least you were happy and had a friend. It was too bad that friend turned out to be a monster. Stanford, your Stanford, had been overjoyed to learn about the world and the mysteries it held. He had wanted a way to help humanity, and the other creatures he had found out about. That was what he told you at least, and then he had betrayed you and began experimenting on you.

It was hard to tell how much time had gone by while you thought about your stupidity in the past. The Stanford before you began to show signs of stirring. You moved the tray of food closer to his cell. He would be understandably upset when he woke up, but there might be a chance for conversation. You would like to learn about this world and its differences compared to your own. He grumbled something before opening his eyes. The second they fell upon you they hardened into that glare again, making you flinch in fear.

“I should have known you would be back, Bill,” Stanford seethed. “Where are they? What have you done with Stanley and the kids? How did you clone Dipper and Mabel?”

“I...I d-don’t know,” you stutter out to the best of your ability.

“Don’t lie to me, Bill,” he yelled, slamming his fist against the bars. “I am done falling for your tricks!”

“I’m sorry,” you shouted in terror and did your best to curl into a whimpering ball. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“What?” Stanford asked in a calmer tone. He was visibly confused when you finally brought yourself to look at him. He took a breath to compose himself. You were relieved to see that the glare was absent at the moment. “You aren’t Bill Cipher, are you?”

“I am usually referred to as William,” you admitted after a beat. You averted your eye as you tended to do around others. “I prefer Will.”

“Then the clones are what exactly?” His voice sounded skeptical.

“It was Stanley’s decision to come to this world,” you replied while wringing your hands. You did not want to talk about your world, or those you were enslaved by. Stanford deserved answers though.

There was silence once more. He was most likely mulling over what you had revealed. Did he think you were lying? He probably did judging by his initial reaction to you. You assumed it was some counterpart of yours. It seemed like a sore subject for the human. Despite wanting to learn about your other self you stayed away from that subject.

“My family, are they safe?” Stanford asked hesitantly.

“I am not sure,” you said reluctantly. You did not want to get his hopes up, but you did not want him to despair either. “Some of them got away at least, but Master Dipper pursued them for a short time. I do not know if he managed to catch any of them.”

“Well, thank you for being honest with me,” Stanford sighed.

“I brought food if you’re hungry,” you offered and scooted the tray under the bars. It was obvious he was still suspicious of you, but he took the tray anyway. He examined each piece of food before taking even a single bite. You were just happy to have someone to talk to.

When the interrogations started you seemed to be in more pain than Ford. It was a relief that you did not have to watch the process, but seeing the aftermath was just as torturous. They did not want to kill him, not right away at least. They wanted information about this world, and he was unfortunately the best one to give it. He had a strong will. Ford would not do anything to put his family in danger.

It was hard to comfort him, though you tried. He had lingering doubts about you and your intentions. Whatever the reason, you were hesitant to broach the subject. You did manage a degree of small talk when providing him with food and water. They did not want him to have much. It made gathering information easier, or at least it was supposed to. You admired Ford’s endurance.

“What are they like?” You asked after about a week of your uneasy moments together. He gave you a wary look, but at least the glare was not present. You suspected that one wrong word would change that. “Your Dipper and Mabel, what are they like?”

“They are adventurous,” Ford answered after a moment. Something about what you said, or the way you said it, made him relax. He seemed to think of better times with them. “To a dangerous extent at times.”

“Are they...nice?” You spoke hesitantly as you typically did. It was hard to figure out the best word to use.

His silence made you fearful that you had overstepped some line. Ford did not look angry with you when your gazes met. He seemed to be analyzing you, but not in a cold way. A small nod was his answer, but a soft smile formed on his lips. It was hard to tell exactly where you stood with this human, but he was much more pleasant than the ones you are used to.

“Dipper loves mysteries,” Ford informed you after a comfortable silence had passed. He held that faraway look again. The side of his head came to rest against the bars holding him. “Mabel is a very gifted artist. She crafts her own sweaters any chance she gets depending on the inspiration. Sometimes I wish Stanley and I were as close as those two, but we’re working to patch things up. I doubt there is a pair more loyal and dedicated than Mabel and Dipper though.”

He went silent after that. Ford seemed to feel like he had shared too much. In some ways maybe he had. Even if the others wanted you to share this information it would not help them. Ford could tell you all about what his family was like, but he would never reveal where they could be hiding. All that was gained from that was the incredible likelihood of them trying to rescue him. The thought set heavy within you.

That was the last you had talked with Ford in a few days. Stanley was relentless in his interrogations just like your mistress. Your master preferred to cause physical pain over mental, but he was a genius in that department and oh so creative. When they finally gave him a crack at the prisoner you hid from the sounds of Ford’s screams. He still refused to bend to their might.

It was early morning when you visited Ford after your master had his way with the man. He had been given time to recover at least. The man was asleep when the door to his cell creaked open. His eyes darted to you in the onset of his panic. The progress you had made showed when he physically relaxed upon seeing you. It warmed you to see someone actually happy in your presence, despite the circumstances. He seemed confused when you did not offer more than a glass of water and an apple.

“We do not have much time,” you told him when he finished the apple. You helped him to his feet as best you could. He was still rather confused. “Do not return to your family immediately, but get as far from here as you can. They will pursue you the second they know you have escaped.”

Ford did not question why you were helping him. Perhaps he understood, perhaps he was still suspicious. Either way he followed you to a place he could escape from. He seemed to debate about something before leaving. His eyes were focused on you with a hesitant expression. In the end Ford said nothing, but offered a nod of thanks before escaping into the fading darkness.

Stanley was the first to wake a few hours later. You prayed it would be enough time. He was furious, and did the one thing you dreaded most. The twins woke up from his yelling. They were not pleased with you, and allowed you to rot in your little cage for the time being. If they returned empty handed you would be severely punished. If they returned with Ford then all that effort would have been for nothing. You dreaded that even more than what was to become of you.

 

Everything hurt. It was no surprise, given what was happening to you. The shift into a physical form was not a pleasant one for you. It wasn’t supposed to be. You became weaker, if that were possible. You curse Stanley for discovering how to do such a thing. The thing you dread is whether or not it is reversible. You hate being stuck in a body, but you would be unable to leave this one. Now you remember why you never questioned your captors’ orders and obeyed their every whim.

You feel your triangular form change drastically. You are taller than you normally present yourself. The cramped space of the cage informs you of that. Your eye opens slowly. It is not in the middle of your being, but on the right side of what should be your face. You feel disoriented by whatever angle you are currently facing. There are feet against the top of the cage. Yours, covered by some dark boots. They would look rather stylish to you if you weren’t thinking about what animal would have been killed for them.

Moving your head hurts, but you have to see what the rest of you looks like. Following up the shin high boots you discover a nice pair of dress pants. They are black in color, which is why you were confused about how far your boots reached. Blue flashes into your line of sight. There is a well fitted tuxedo over your upper half. The space is too constricting for you to move your arms. It feels like they are covered, as are your hands.

You are scared of the fact that you don’t feel scared. That cannot be right. You have dreaded the very thought of being forced into your own physical form for so long. Why would it not scare you when it finally happened? There is a sense of joy around you, of accomplishment and triumph. That’s what you are feeling, or not feeling. These feelings are not your own. Terror grips what you figure is your heart

“Have you learned your lesson, Cipher?” Stanley speaks from beyond your prison.

The only thing keeping the panic in is that you have no idea what is going on. Perhaps that is the only reason you are so close to breaking down in tears. You remain silent in hopes that he will take that as a yes. Those feelings surrounding you that do not belong to you change to amusement. There is something lurking beneath them, something dark that you cannot place. 

It must be the cage. It is not surprising if it had become sentient at some point, given the nature of magical objects. The second it is open you dash to the other side of the room. You curl into a pathetic ball of fear and near hyperventilation. No one will offer you comfort here, you must realize that. You feel your body move of its own accord. Your hands lift to your single-eyed sight to reveal that they are covered by black gloves. Claws pierce through the tips of the fingers.

Defense and offense, your mind supplies as you study the sharp points.

“William,” your master calls for your attention.

When your head turns to him the others are at either side, all staring at you. Their expressions are blank, as they tend to be. That dark undercurrent is back within you, around you. You begin to wonder if your body is your own, or if you are sharing it with something else. You wonder if they are picking up on it as well, but something keeps you from voicing any concerns.

“Never pegged you for a blond,” the girl states with her infuriating air of superiority.

You blink in confusion at both her words and your own feelings. There is a mirror to your left that confirms her statement. Your hair is blond, cut short in the back, but with bangs hanging over your left eye. You lift a hand to brush them aside only to flinch back. Your left eye is yellow, almost golden, while your right is the same robin egg blue as your suit. They both have slitted pupils, but you can only see out of the blue one. Your mouth curves into an impossibly wide smile with some rather sharp teeth. You jump away in fear, tripping over yourself.

A hand comes up to your mouth. It is not smiling, but gaping open in silent horror. You hesitate to probe further. Your gloved finger comes into contact with the fangs that decorate your food receptacle. They are smooth, but sharpened like a fine blade. You are a demon after all. The sound of approaching footsteps draws your attention back to the others in the room.

“Get off the floor, you useless demon,” the male twin demands. He is clearly not pleased with your panicked state.

There is rage bubbling within you. That was the dark emotion you could not identify previously. It is still controlled by whatever you are sharing space with. When you do get to your feet, you tower over the humans before you. Stanley only comes up to your chin when he comes close enough. You feel some satisfaction knowing that. The boy stops just below your shoulders, and his sister is slightly taller than that.

“There are probably some unknown side effects to making it human,” Stanley says while examining you. He has always had this detached way of speaking about you. He did that with most apparently. “I suppose we’ll see what comes of it, if anything. As usual, it’s your responsibility, boy.”

“At least tell me you know how to walk,” the boy grumbles with his arms crossed over his chest. 

It is strange walking rather than floating, but you manage. You have an idea of where the brat is leading you. This is your first time in a true physical form, but not the first time dealing with your master. As you suspected the two of you come to a room that he claimed as his own when this place was deemed their base of operations. There is also little question as to what will happen within said room.

The brat practically drags you past the threshold. The door is all but slammed behind you. This upstart is a teen with composure, if nothing else. His resting expression of blank arrogance is infuriating. It is a constant among the intruders from your world. Perhaps it is passed time that someone tore those expressions right from their skulls. Wouldn’t that be fun to watch?

“Cipher?” His voice shows a degree of surprise if not outright apprehension. 

Human emotions are certainly rare from either supposed psychic. It takes you a moment to realize why he uttered your name in such a way. You blink at him when your faces are so close. You have his arms pinned against the wall by the wrists. You want to pull back, to apologize profusely, but your body will not cooperate. It no longer feels like your own. This is just another prison for you to be trapped in.

“Perhaps,” you hear your voice, feel your lips move, but the thoughts just don’t feel like yours. “We could try something different. This is a new body after all. Why not see what it can do?”

The hand not pinning his wrists moves up his shirt. The buttons part with little effort. He flinches at the bite of a clawed finger on his chest. Ethereal blue eyes flip between one blue and one yellow. There is apprehension in the way he opens his mouth. No sound escapes on the first try. Could that be fear in his eyes? How delightful.

“W-William,” he forces out. Oh, it is delicious how he squirms. “What are you doing?”

He is not used to this behavior from you. It isn’t you. You want to scream it at him that it is not your doing. Nothing comes out of your mouth. When the claws dig in again, you know there is blood seeping from the wounds. He cringes at the sensation, adding to his uncertainty. He is so confused by this, and that is why he is afraid. You scream for him to use his powers to put a stop to it, but he cannot hear you within your own mind. You are a prisoner once more.

A forked tongue runs along pointed fangs, there is no way those are anything else. The bite of claws into flesh draws a pained moan from the boy. He starts to struggle against the hold on his wrists. Suddenly the fangs are closer. The tongue, inhumanly long, tastes his exposed neck. A laugh surrounds the room, or it could be echoing within his mind. It should be familiar, the pitch is, the voice is, but it feels too sinister to have come from the simpering weakling he knows.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” the dark tone sends a shiver down the mortal’s spine. His eyes betray his fear. It is wonderful to watch him fall apart. “I am a demon after all.”

“Stop,” he commands. The brat’s confidence is waning. The arrogance normally filling his gaze is fading in the wake of being reminded what he is toying with. “Let me go, William.”

“Oh, I don’t think I will,” the voice that responds is far too cheerful. A chuckle escapes into the room from the dangerous mouth he cannot look away from. His Adam’s apple bobs when that free claw reaches his delicate throat. Those impossibly sharp teeth are on display from the too wide smile that greets him. “In fact I have quite different plans for this evening.”

The room shifts in a blur for the brat as he is flung across the room. That sinister chuckle morphs into the laughter of a lunatic. The crash is probably enough to draw the attention of the others. Good, it saves me the trouble of seeking them out. I always did prefer killing two birds with one stone, three makes it all the better. He struggles to move further away. His shoulder must have taken more damage when he landed by the way he favors it.

I extend my arm out to the closed door. It comes off its hinges rather easily. It makes a good projectile especially when it splits into several sharpened pieces. Part of the wall moves to protect the wretched boy. When it moves away the other two have arrived to the party. My lips stretch into a larger grin. Before any of them can react I’ve already flung them from the room. It is easy to follow them, but I take my time just to draw this out.

“Cipher, I swear-,” Stanley is understandably upset. I would be too if the few I cared about were put in such danger. Oh, that reminds me of something.

“You’ll what exactly?” I taunt him. My feet leave the floor so I can look down on them better. I bend at the waist and remove my hat in a gentlemanly bow. “The name’s Bill Cipher. I decided it was about time I welcomed you into my world.”

Their eyes widen at my words. It really is a shame they did not manage to procure any of old Six Fingers journals. They would have a better idea of what they were in for otherwise. It would still be fun to make them squirm and beg for mercy. I bet they’ve never heard such things come from their own mouths. Well, I suppose at least one of them heard it in his voice. My temper is flaring again.

“What did you do with William?” The brat asks with his best threatening stance. He should really know better than to try intimidating a demon. Not all of us are so easily tamed.

“Oh, he’s here,” I admit to the trio. I twist in the air so I’m looking at them upside down. My face must really be something to behold by the way they cringe. “He has front row seats to your demise. Sadly he is not as appreciative as he should be. I suppose you grew on him, not that I can blame him for such misplaced fondness.”

I snap my fingers to teleport behind them. Stanley is the first to go, I decide. His insides are so squishy with my claws buried in his chest. He gurgles something I don’t care to make out. There is so much blood coming out of his torso and mouth. I must have ruptured something important. The life fading from him is a beautiful sight, though I could think of better. When I pull my hands back he falls to his knees with barely enough strength to reach for his new piercing. Taking the time to taste his liquid life force is tempting, but there are two left to deal with.

The twins don’t seem to know what to do with their mentor bleeding out before them. The upstart princess is the first to find her head. She attempts sending throwing knives at me with her faked powers. A few manage to strike me, but pain has never bothered me. I refuse to delight in it in this moment, however. A pair of brats needs to be taught an important lesson.

They flinch when I start my advance, easily stepping over the false Stan. They are quickly running out of options, and must realize that. The little princess can’t seem to get the hint that her powers don’t work on me. What actually surprises me is the brat’s attempt to fight back. I never thought he would call to the being they had tormented most for help. I suppose when people are desperate they will look for any possible escape. That rings especially true when faced with death.

I pull a knife from my right arm, watching as the blood drips down the blade for a brief moment. The princess is the closest, and simply elongating my limb allows me to grab her. She struggles as her hair betrays her by being too long and easy to pull. It is thick and sturdy as well, making keeping her in my grasp much easier. There are tears in her eyes. I wonder if this is the first time she has lost her composure in such a way. The brat is not much better off. I have heard his words before, and that angers me.

“Tell me, boy,” I say once his sister is firmly in my grasp. She flinches in my hold at the cold press of the blade to her throat. “Do you know how to beg?”

“Leave her alone,” he chokes out. He is easier to mold than I thought. At least I know I’ll get my point across before this is all done. “Take me instead!”

“The noble hero doesn’t really suit you, kid,” I tell him with a bored expression. I press the knife deeper into his sister’s flesh. The skin reddens, but I make sure not to break it just yet. “I’ve heard those words before, in the same voice no less. Have you heard your own voice beg for mercy?”

The little princess struggles against me despite her situation. Perhaps in their last moments they won’t be so different from their counterparts. The knife digs further, drawing blood. She stills at the wetness from her delicate neck. It appears she has learned her lesson for the time being. The brat is watching with streams of tears running down his cheeks. He knows what I am talking about. He has no defense to stand on.

Silence surrounds the room. His sister is not struggling. He is not offering up anything to appease me. He knows it is impossible. I smile at his admitted defeat. I could demand anything from them in this moment. They would pack their bags and leave this world forever if I commanded it. Too bad that’s not what I want. It has never been what I wanted from them. There is only one thing left to do.

“Mabel,” the brat cries out when I drag the knife across her throat.

He shakes as he watches his sister’s neck split open. She gurgles something that may have been an apology for failing him. It’s rather poetic that they would be so like their counterparts in the end. The stench of blood and death is thick in the air. The only scent stronger is that of the brat’s fear. I let the knife fall before walking over to him. He does not try to flee, or even flinch back. It is almost a shame that he has accepted his fate so easily.

“Please,” he sobs as I bend to be more at his level. I knew he had it in him.

“Shh,” I press a bloodied finger to his lips. He is as still as a cornered animal. Now, they are the prey. “Do you understand, kid? You touched what was mine, so I took yours. It’s only fair. You would have done the same, yes?”

He tries to speak, but the words will not form on his tongue. He has nothing, and he knows why this happened. He nods his acceptance of these events. It is almost a shame that we could not have meet under different circumstances. I think they would have been fun, if they had not taken so much from me. He chances a look into my eyes. I know what he is searching for, whom.

“He knows,” I tell him, but that is all I will give him. He does not deserve even that much. I lift my hand to his throat and squeeze, the other soon joining it. Humans turn so many interesting colors. He struggles on reflex. He does not want to die, but he has nothing left to fight for. I know that feeling all too well now.

I move the bodies close together when it is finally done. I don’t know why I’m giving them this after all they’ve done. Perhaps they just remind me too much of the Pines family, or maybe it is the influence of another. I try not to dwell on it as the abandoned factory goes up in flames around me. It is easy to simply walk out. I feel nothing, numb I believe is the term for it. I did not even get the joy I was expecting out of all that. There is just emptiness inside this vessel.

The forest is quiet. I don’t know where I’m headed to, or why I haven’t just teleported away. I could return to the mindscape, maybe give a few nightmares. I don’t really want to be alone right now, or maybe I do and that is why I’m avoiding the realm of dreams. It feels like my mind is too full, yet blank at the same time. Am I getting sick? Can I even get sick?

My hands wrap around a once blue and white trucker hat. It is covered in blood, and torn in places. The blue tree symbol still stands out against the once white front. It is defiant just like the kid that wore it for so long. One of my hands leaves it to touch my face. As I suspected, there is dampness on my face. My eyes are leaking. Pathetic, is it not?

I banish the hat that has offended me so. It will be safe in my little pocket dimension. When it does not cause such a reaction I may take it out again. I sit on a rock within the forest. It is just beyond the clearing where I was summoned about five years ago. Memories can be a terrible thing when you discover yourself capable of emotion. It is probably time I returned to the mindscape if this is happening.

“Will?” A familiar voice calls from the trees. Sixer is watching me when I turn in that direction. Worry is etched into his face. It is not an expression I am familiar with on his face. “What happened?”

He is cautious to approach. It is not likely that he senses the difference, but there is always that possibility. That he comes closer shows how much he cares about the one who risked so much to set him free. I must look a right mess to him. I am still covered in blood to the point that no one can tell the tuxedo was once blue. He hesitantly wraps his arms around me. I have never been hugged before, granted it would be rather uncomfortable in my typical form.

I slowly return the embrace, not really knowing what to do. I could sink my claws into him so easily and he doesn’t even realize it. Every Pines capable of standing in my way would be dead with one swift action. My claws are poised, but I do not strike. Something is holding me back. I pull back before I do something too stupid. He is smiling at me in a reassuring manner. His hand moves to wipe at the dampness on my face. I flinch back at the comforting touch. I am really not familiar with this form of contact.

“I’m sorry, S-” I try to put some distance between us before he grabs my upper arms.

“It is alright, Will,” Sixer insists with that same smile. “And I think you have earned the right to call me Ford.”

Oh, it is just sickening how much he trusts this form. I should have kept that throwing knife to slit his throat. He might even thank me. He has lost so much in the past few months. I could send him to the one place I will never be able to go. If I cannot follow Pine Tree, I could at least send him a nice gift, right?

“Great Uncle Ford, where did you go?” That voice came from beyond the trees. My mind is unable to comprehend the next few minutes.

When I do come back to myself I am positive I am hallucinating. Shooting Star is standing in front of Sixer, facing us. A sling is supporting her arm that must have been injured. There are a few fading scars I can notice, possibly more hidden by her clothes. For once she is not wearing one of her sweaters. Her eyes focus on me in confusion. It is who stands beside her that I am having trouble believing.

Bandages cover the right half of his face. His left arm is covered by a cast. Judging by the fit of his shirt he must have bandages across his torso as well. The messy mop of brown hair is unmistakable, and the visibility of the constellation birthmark on his forehead further confirms it. My Pine Tree is a mess, but he is alive. My eyes are leaking again.

“Will, it is okay,” Sixer is in front of me with a soothing tone. He is blocking me from seeing Pine Tree. “It is okay, Will. You are safe with us.”

He thinks I’m afraid of the twins? Of course he does. I quickly wipe at my eyes before nodding that I understand. I stand up so I can tower over him. Sixer comes up just barely above my chin. It is enough for me to see over his head and watch my human. I play along by offering a hesitant smile. It is not so forced, since I am happy to see Pine Tree alive even if he is a little banged up.

“This is the guy you were telling us about?” Shooting Star asks skeptically. “He’s not a blue triangle.”

“No, I…,” I try to decide on an excuse. “I was forced into a physical form after helping...Ford.”

“Thank you for allowing him to come back to us,” Shooting Star says before hugging me. She comes up to my clavicle. It is rather awkward with her one arm unable to participate, and my lack of experience with such actions.

Pine Tree is watching me with the same suspicion he always seems to hold. It could just be reserved for me of course. He is probably deciding if there is a way I could be tricking them. He was always hard to fool, especially after the one time I managed to steal his body. That was fun, but it is better when he is in his own body. I may have to examine my sanity or lack thereof soon.

“How did you get away from them?” Pine Tree asks. It is good to hear his voice again. I really need to check myself.

“I...They’re…,” I do not know how to explain it without making them realize. I cannot keep up this lie of being Stanford’s savior. I can either admit defeat verbally, or just teleport away.

They seem to notice that I am indeed covered in the red liquid most need to survive. Sixer’s hand is on my shoulder before I have time to process much. Shooting Star seems torn between moving to hug me again and fainting. Her usable hand is at her mouth in a gesture of surprise or shock. There is pity in her eyes that I do not appreciate. Pine Tree looks guilty for bringing up the subject.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “At least no one else has to be hurt by them.”

“Yeah,” I manage to say. The awkward silence that follows makes me itchy. “I should probably head somewhere.”

The twins glance to their great uncle with worried expressions. I am unsure what silent conversation is being passed around. Sixer’s grip tightens on my shoulder making me stiffen. His smile is still reassuring. The matching looks on Pine Tree and Shooting Star are both comforting and unnerving somehow. They are probably the only humans that can make me feel such contradicting emotions, and a variety of others.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Shooting Star offers with her pleading eyes.

“Sure,” Pine Tree adds. He extends his hand in offering. I can feel my arm twitch to accept a proposed deal. It would not do for the blue flames to spring up now. His smile is so sincere and trusting. “Welcome to the Pines family.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not make a sequel or some companion piece to this. For the time being I have other projects I'm working on that I will eventually post here if anyone is interested. It won't be for some time, though. 
> 
> I leave you with some very trustworthy nachos. I promise they won't trick you or anything. ;)


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